


Amantes Tenebras

by AlilaAliana (SecretlyIrish)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gay Keith (Voltron), Keith has abandonment issues, Keith is adopted by kolivan, M/M, More cast to be added, Rating subject to change, SHEITH - Freeform, Self-Indulgent, Vampire!Shiro, and vampires, keith dyes his hair, keith feels things, keith is hot topic, keith likes bauhaus, kolivan as a human, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-03-05 18:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13393983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretlyIrish/pseuds/AlilaAliana
Summary: When Keith's father sends him off to his mother's friend's to live, what will he uncover? Is the myth of a silver-eyed vampire just that? Or is it more? And what is up with Shiro, his new house-mate?The real question, though, is whether or not everyone around him will drive him insane.OR:I wanted a self-indulgent vampire fic where Shiro is a vampire and it originally actually startles Keith when he first finds out.





	1. Misted Mountains

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted to my Voltron Amino, albeit a rougher version thereof. I will be posting a link to this on my own amino account, just to clear up any confusion.
> 
> I'm under Gay for Shiro Sparkle-heart-emoji water-emoji
> 
> Sincerely Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10/09/2018  
> Edited to adjust a name error w/ Keith's mum.   
> :")

It was a long, _long_ drive from Keith’s Kansan home to the fog-shrouded world of Bellemont, Washington and he hadn’t uttered more than a few sentences the entire trip. He was still miffed that his father had suddenly come back from nowhere, only to ship him off to live with his mother’s friend. _A young man shouldn’t live on his own, Keith_ , had been the excuse, nevermind the fact that he’d done just fine on his own until then-- or the fact that his father could’ve taken that as reason to actually stay for once in his miserable life-- _And your Mother trusted Kolivan with her life, Keith_. Besides, _Kolivan has an adopted son only two years older than you. You’ll get along just fine._

  
He hadn’t seen his mother in even longer than he’d seen his father pre-return, so his reassurances had simply made him more uncomfortable. Hence his absolute refusal to talk unless it was absolutely necessary (ie when he has to pee so bad he’s close to doing the embarrassing wiggle of pure desperation), instead choosing to block out any conversation with Bauhaus and the old, battered copy of Frankenstein.

  
Keith's father seemed perplexed by the idea that his son looked so enthralled by two hundred-year-old literature, and kept shooting him worried glances-- which were completely and totally ignored.

  
The further up into the mountains they drove, the more fog seemed to settle on them, and the only things that seemed to peak out from the blankets of whiteness were deep green trees, taller than most buildings Keith had seen. It was almost alien to the boy raised in fields of wheat and sun, and if he were to be honest? It was beautiful. He had never seen those hues of green, never seen fog cling to the mountain paths like ghosts of those long past, never seen the way everything seemed so much more vivacious beneath a constant thrum of rain.

  
He would be grinning if it had been his decision to come here.

  
“We’re here,” his father said, pulling into the driveway of a small, but homely looking cabin right in front of a large, shimmering lake. He couldn’t wait to sneak out at midnight and go on good, long swims. The cabin itself was made out of large wooden logs-- the kind you’d see in children’s storybooks. There was a picture window at the front and he could easily see the fireplace crackling inside and the back of a patchy mostly-red plaid couch. The porch was overgrown with about fifty types of herbs-- some Keith recognized, others not so much-- and standing amidst the greenery was a tall man with dark, long hair and warm brown eyes. His face wasn’t smiling, but his eyes locked onto Keith’s and there was a look of recognition.

  
“You must be Krolia’s little one,” he said, voice low and thoughtful as if he was piecing everything about Keith together as they spoke, “Come inside, Shiro made tea.”  
And just like that, Keith's father vanished yet again into the mist and Keith had no choice but to walk into the house of a man he had never seen before, all of his possessions in a bag at his side.

  
He wasn’t happy about the ordeal, but he’d never liked Kansas anyways. His only friend was a boy named Nico who came from Venice and also liked guys. They’d bonded over their love of the dark, myths, and being gay in a small town in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. Nico was leaving for New York next week as it stood, so he really didn’t have anything left to go back to.

 

* * *

 

  
It didn’t take Keith long to get used to the new house, his room was an attic with a window pointed to the lake and a cracked wall (where he promptly moved the bed to), and the rest of the house was made up of a tiny kitchen, Kolivan’s room, the living room, and what he had to assume was Shiro’s room. He’d been there for two days, but he’d never seen Shiro enter or leave that particular area, but he knew for a fact he didn’t share the room with Kolivan. So unless he slept on the couch, which didn’t make sense- they had an attic room and it was obvious no one else had used it in years, it had to be his.

  
Shiro, aside from never seeming to enter or leave his room, was an odd one. He was extremely sweet and gentle, but kept himself at a distance, as if he was afraid of hurting someone. He never really touched Keith, but he would always make him breakfast and coffee with two teaspoons of sugar and some hot cocoa mix. He always seemed to tell Keith as he was leaving to cover his neck with something before he left, with all the dead seriousness of a tortured soul come to warn him of a curse.

  
Sometimes Keith wanted to retaliate with a snort and ask him if he was a vampire or something, but the last time he did that Shiro just frowned and shoved a scarf at him insistently. It would’ve been cute if Shiro hadn’t seemed sincerely upset by it. Keith couldn’t help but wonder why he’d had such a reaction.

  
This was one of those times.

  
“Keith, it’s not safe to go out there with your neck exposed like that,” Shiro was insisting, forcibly wrapping the scarf around Keith's neck, “It’s still cold outside.”  
Keith couldn’t help but smile a little bit, even if all the insistence was still a mystery, “I know, I know. Calm down, will you?” He was trying to sound annoyed, but it came out more resigned than anything. He knew he couldn’t stop Shiro, even if he’d wanted to. He’d tried once, and once was enough.

  
Shiro nodded, and carefully moved his hands away from the scarf now attached to Keith, ensuring that he didn’t brush up against him. “Be safe out there,” was his only advice to the seventeen-year-old before Keith hopped in the car and made his way to the school. It was there he’d started hearing the rumours of a handsome Vampire that lived in the mountains, made of pure silver eyes and a jawline as sharp as his teeth. They said that he could mesmerize his victims with his pure, raw perfection and drink them until they were dead without even the slightest protest from the victim.

  
On one hand, Vampires were one of Keith’s guilty pleasures. On the other hand, he wanted to laugh. The only silver eyed being up in the mountains was Shiro, who-- while extremely handsome-- wasn’t exactly the epitome of physical perfection they were describing. He had his scars (some of which Keith very much liked to look at), his blemishes, his slightly crooked smile and one eye that drooped a little because of the way the scar tissue went into his eye on that side.

  
He may have been exactly Keith’s type (not that he’d admit that), but someone so universally perfect people’s pants would drop if he asked to suck their blood? Doubtful.


	2. Chapter 2

    There weren't very many times where Keith missed Kansas. It's dull and flat like a piano key tuned with the accuracy of a mildly inebriated elephant, and the only interesting thing for miles around? Well, he's moving to New York Friday.  Today was one of the rare days where he missed his old life. It had rained non-stop since he first arrived, and he was starting to yearn for the sun on his face and the glimmering fields at sunset.

  
    He stood at the window, watching as the rain pounded against the lake like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. Pointless. His sour mood wasn't helped by Shiro's absence either; he'd become rather fond of his odd house-mate- even if he had a fascination with necks.

  
    The sound of a door creaking open behind him brought him out of his rabbit-hole of a head, dragging him kicking and screaming back to reality. "Hey Keith," came the deeper voice of _house-mate-with-a-neck-fetish_ he'd missed so much.

  
    "Was the store a madhouse as usual?" Keith responded, not even looking behind him. He didn't have to in order to feel where Shiro moved to; the temperature around him seemed to drop several degrees. Always.

  
    "Of course it was," was the response. As he spoke, Shiro circled to the front of Keith, blocking the boy's view of the drizzly world outside.  
    Keith was briefly struck by how Shiro's silver eyes could practically glow in any light- even the muted light of a rainy day. Keith couldn't deny that he was physically attracted to Shiro, scars and all. But it wasn't love. Not yet. It was just attraction, and Keith knew that.

  
    Still, Shiro was like the sun. He'd blind you if you looked directly at him, and really couldn't be good for Keith's health.

  
    "Did you grab the eggplant?" he asked after physically shaking himself from Shiro's grasp. Shiro shook his head, causing the white portion of his hair to bounce in a way that could only be described as disturbingly adorable. Sort of like a baby bat.

  
    Keith sighed and threw his pillow at the man. "Seriously? Again?" He was beginning to think Shiro might not like eggplant, which would be a pity; eggplant was one of Keith's favourites.  That may have been more due to the shape and texture than due to the actual flavour, but those were perfectly valid reasons to like a- is eggplant a squash, a fruit, or a vegetable?- whatever an eggplant is.

  
    "Sorry Keith, I got distracted. They had melon buns," Shiro said, eyes lighting up like the fourth-of-July at the mention of the buns. Keith knew they were his favourite kind, and could only shake his head amusedly as he watched those silver eyes glitter.

  
    "All right, all right, just don't forget again or I'll have to smack you," he threatened with no real malice in his voice. Shiro just chuckled at him, reaching out a hand as if to ruffle his hair before pulling it back. Keith barely fought off a pout, part of him desperately wanting Shiro to actually touch him.

  
    Being touch-starved for years must be eroding his walls.

  
    It took everything he had not to just reach out, grab his hand, and just place it on his face. Especially when Shiro gave him such a fragile look- as if he was genuinely afraid to touch him.

  
    Part of Keith wondered if someone had hurt Shiro. The other part wondered if Shiro had hurt someone else. It was hard to tell with how he acted, how he jumped at any loud noise, how he flinched at hands near him, and how he kept himself as to himself as physically possible. It was almost like touching someone else burned him. The many scars only further cemented his concern, which grew with each passing day.

  
    "Shiro," his voice was a mere whisper now, yet the other man looked up instantly, "You're a dork."

  
    And just like that, the tense moment was broken by Shiro's laughter- a strange mix of deep bellows, wheezes, and little snorts. It was a _horrific_ sounding laugh, and Keith couldn't get enough of it.

  
    "Says the boy who wears a _mullet_ in this day and age," came Shiro's quiet quip, laughter dancing at the edges of his voice.

  
    It was Keith's turn to laugh, rough and scratchy, but far more graceful than the utter disaster that was Shiro's. When he got himself together, he looked up and saw Shiro grinning.

  
    Then his heart skipped a beat. Those canines looked shockingly sharp, almost as if...

  
    But that was...

  
    Impossible.

 

    _Right?_


	3. Cold Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith breaks, and Shiro gets to try and pick up the pieces.   
> Ft. Jack's Cruddy Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italicized paragraphs contain descriptions of physical abuse. PLEASE be careful.

School  _sucked_. As soon as one person found out that he was without any family, nearly the whole school teased him relentlessly. James Griffin and Lance McClain were the worst of it, though he suspected Lance didn't mean to be quite so much of a prick. Griffin, though, Keith regularly punched in the face. Lance, he ignored. 

 

He'd gotten into yet another fist fight with Griffin at lunch, landing Griffin a broken nose and himself in-school suspension. He knew that Kolivan and Shiro would give him The Look when he got home, that their eyes would shine with disappointment. He knew he was hopeless, and that they'd eventually tire of him too. He almost looked forward to it; he couldn't bear to see Shiro's face drop because Keith fucked up. He sighed, and dragged his hand along his face, wishing he could just cease. He hated this, standing on the precipice to the Abyss, looking down, waiting for it to swallow him, but still being stuck on the very end of the ledge, just waiting for it to finally give. But he couldn't make it break on his own. He'd tried, but somehow the ledge kept a hold of his feet. 

 

"Sit up straight!" Mr. Iverson- the vice principal- barked, his single eye glaring harshly at Keith's slumped form. 

 

Keith was _done_ , "Fuck off, Iverson." 

 

It was almost funny- Iverson's face turned a near purple colour, his nose scrunched back like a pug's, his eyes narrowed even further, and Keith could actually see the veins popping out in his neck. It would've been hilarious, if Keith wasn't suddenly scared that this man would beat him from an inch of his life, just like his first foster father. 

 

_The belt makes a swish sound as Stanley takes it off of his form..._

 

Keith could hear the swish of fabric against something. He couldn't see, his eyes were covered in white spots. He couldn't breathe.

 

_Keith is sobbing, trying to get away, but he can't. There's a series of smacks, and it hurts so much... so much... What did he do to deserve this? Was he really so troublesome? He'll be better next time, he promises, just stop hitting him! Please! I'll do anything you ask, anything, just please, please, please stop. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! But he doesn't stop, he won't stop. And he'll do it again, and again, and again..._

 

When Keith is aware of his surroundings again, he's in the nurse's office. Kolivan and Shiro are there, eyes scrunched in mirror images of concern. How long had he been out of it? At least they didn't look disappointed yet. 

 

"Hey, Keith? We're going to have you see a therapist, okay?" Kolivan says, gently. Oh great, a shrink. Keith near about rolled his eyes, he'd done this song and dance before. He'd stay silent, the shrink would pry and pry, and Keith wouldn't say anything. They'd give up on him, and the family would send him back. It was one of the reasons he'd run off to go back to the shack he'd lived in with his father. His  _real_ father.

 

"Keith, trust me, I know how much it sucks. Kolivan forced me to do the same thing, but Ulaz is nice. He doesn't force people to talk about things they don't want to. He spent the first year with me just talking about everything  _besides_ my mental health. He never pushed me," Shiro reassured, but Keith wasn't really listening. 

 

"Can we just go home?" Keith asked, looking down. 

 

As soon as they got home, Keith locked himself in his room, pulled his knees to his chest, and burst into sobs. He hadn't cried in so long, but he was just so overwhelmed. All he wanted was a reassuring pat on the shoulder, or a hug. Hell, even having someone sitting ten centimetres away would have been welcome. He'd avoided human touch for years, scared they would hurt him, but he was still human. He still needed someone, anyone.

 

 

 

Keith had sobbed so hard that he was coughing violently by the time Shiro had walked in. He saw the sight in front of him- Keith's cheeks shiny with tears and snot, eyes and nose red as a rose, lips bleeding from Keith's own teeth trying to hold back the tears- and broke. He scooped him into his arms, pressing his face into Keith's neck. Keith continued to sob, though his sobs were beginning to quiet now that he wasn't alone. 

 

Shiro was strong, he could feel the cool muscles through their shirts. It made him feel safer, and the cold was nice against his heated face. He nuzzled into Shiro's chest, cries reduced to hitching breaths, and closed his eyes. 

 

There was no rhythmic beat, nor did his chest rise and fall, but Keith was too damn tired to care.

 

He was half asleep when he heard Shiro mumble, "What happened to you, 愛?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead, I promise!   
> Also, I do love James, but he was a right prick in school, so unfortunately he'll be a complete dick in this fic. I might write a redemption arc for him, though.   
> I'm looking for a beta, preferably one willing to pester me at least one day a week to get the next chapter written. I tend to be a bit space-ey about that sort of thing, haha. Or forget I have a project altogether. >->''   
> ANYWAY, if you're interested, please leave a comment and we'll discuss the details! ^_^ 
> 
> I also MAY have started a new project. It's got some heavy stuff in it, but I'm excited. It's supposed to be a three part series. https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955832


End file.
